Lonely or just alone?

What a privilege it is to feel peace. After nearly a year of breaking, feeling torn apart at the seams of my own existence and peeling back the layers of myself to the most simple shell of a human, I survived. And in this moment, I am at peace. A few months ago I was clinging to any form of sanity, terrified I’d never feel whole or myself again. Every one tells you time heals but when you’re just trying to get through one day at a time, one minute to the next, everything feels like it’s standing still and time doesn’t exist, let alone feel like it’s healing.

But the good news is, even when you can’t see it or feel it, time is indeed working it’s magic. It came in snippets so small I couldn’t recognize it at first, my own happiness feeling foreign as though it was emotion I didn’t even know. Then the snippets became minutes and then hours. I’m not healed, I’m still hurting, working every day to choose happiness, myself and to heal. Those hours of happiness haven’t turned into days yet but I have to have faith that time will take care of that, too. I don’t dismiss moments like this one anymore though, I cling to them as though I’m afraid they’ll slip away and never return if I don’t focus hard enough on thriving in the minutes I feel whole.

It’s easy to write about courage and being comfortable being alone as though I don’t have those anxious moments wondering what the heck I’m getting myself into. But the truth is I’m not always comfortable, I’m just slowly learning to appreciate the awkwardness of being uncomfortable.

I’m writing this post from a hammock, the sun warming my half asleep body awake and staring at nothing but a lake and horizon of trees. I’m also not back country this time, I’m not alone in the woods, I’m alone in a campground full of families and friends. I was more sure of myself being in the middle of no where, where I was truly alone than being by myself in a place where I’m front and centre in my loneliness.

It took more courage to set up camp this time, with the occasional onlooker as they passed, than it did backcountry, being concerned for the wildlife that could decide I was a good meal at any moment. I was more uncomfortable starting a fire knowing people were only seeing one chair set out, one plate for dinner, one fork and one beer. In a place surrounded by groups of people being alone was intimidating and I was always aware of it and the emotions that pushed their way into my mind without anyone else to distract me.

But at the end of the day I realized, I’m in a campground full of people that are surrounded by loved ones and yet even though I’m alone, I can almost be certain I’m not the loneliest one. Being around people doesn’t guarantee happiness or fulfillment or even belonging, sometimes all it does is distract us from our own inner battles and we use those people to deflect our loneliness into submission.

Focussing on knowing I was alone and yet choosing moments of happiness anyway was one of the toughest challenges I’ve faced in my journey so far. I am on a path of healing and finding myself again, or perhaps for the first time, and am becoming more and more aware that happiness is often times, a choice. A mental battle to choose to see the good things, appreciate the little moments and allowing my heart to hurt while simultaneously fix itself.